


Rows of white spelled our escape in the old torch lights (Oh Mother, I'm scared to close my eyes)

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I've got to stop writing for this pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a world that was so bright, blindingly white as the sun hit the the snow, it was a surprise at how dark it was when her eyes finally closed, Ser Jaime's fingers grazing against hers as his strength began to leave him. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Rows of white spelled our escape in the old torch lights (Oh Mother, I'm scared to close my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Bat For Lashes's Winter Fields
> 
> So I'm half way through the next chapter of High Garden, Bye Garden and have just started the next chapter of butterflies but on what may be one of the hottest days of the year I started this because I couldn't sleep and was strangely longing for the cold. Canon-ish. Sorry for any and all mistakes and any OOC moments. 
> 
> Nothing is mine, it all belongs GRRM, I'm just borrowing the characters once again to add a little fluff to all the angst.

Gods it was cold.

The horses had died yesterday, the frigid air steaming as they took their last breaths, no longer able to give anymore to the small group that had stolen them from the understocked Night's Watch stable. Brienne had felt guilty about that, she had wanted to put them out of their misery a while back but Ser Jaime had calmly pointed out that without them they were little more than walking icicles, fodder for the frozen dead that stalked the north.

He was half-dragging Sansa Stark alongside him now, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard following orders from the Lord Commander at the Wall to take his sister home to Winterfell. 

Brienne had kept her oath by bringing the girl back to her family, but they kept asking for more. The Wall was no place for maidens she had been told,  no matter that she was strong enough to keep both of them safe, they would remain a temptation. As she had heard the words, the familiarity making her want to cut them down with Oathkeeper still sheathed at her side, she had dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that rivers of blood ran to the floor with every step she took back to the chamber she shared with Sansa.

"We have to go", she told the girl with barely a glance, "I'm taking you home."

Ser Jaime hadn't taken much persuasion, he'd been a caged animal for the past few days, falling back into old habits as he met each thrown insult with a sharp offhand reply. Brienne had thought the Wall would have been safe, salvation for a queen without a crown and two broken knights but she had been wrong.

At night she would find him raining blows down on practice dummies, letting out the frustration at their lack of momentum. It was too cold, too dangerous, for them to be sneaking around Castle Black at night but he did it anyway as if he was looking for yet another way to get under her skin. She was beginning to feel the aggravation of staying in one place for too long as well but had no idea where else they could run to, wanting desperately to fight and not to hide but knowing even Oathkeeper couldn't destroy the screaming terror in the skies.

Sansa had told her that she didn't like him coming into their rooms at night, the impropriety of it all sitting ill with the girl, but the Northern Queen couldn't have known all they had been through on the road and due to this strange, almost forced, comradery Brienne let Ser Jaime stay.

They would take it in turns to watch over their resting ward, her own personal Queensguard of assumed Kingslayers yet the Stark girl had never been safer. The knights would sleep in the same bed between times, Brienne both hating and loving the fact that Ser Jaime seemed so close though always just out of reach.

They barely said a word to each other now, still maybe a days journey from the roaring fires of safety, everything being stolen away by the pain of simply breathing. 

If Lord Snow had known what this would take from them surely he wouldn't have sent them out into the wilds of winter, the voice in Brienne's head sounded so young laced with the fear she had rarely let herself throughly feel. It was a strange thing to think but she was barely older than the girl Ser Jaime had finally resorted to carry.

The redhead was a broken bird in his arms, frostbitten and dying a little more with every step. The Queen in the North with only a kingdom of snow to rule over. 

Brienne met Ser Jaime's eyes, still so much unsaid between them and smiled softly. If they died here at least they would die together and she found it was more than she could have hoped for, to live half a year with him by her side rather than a hundred with anyone else. His respect would be enough she told herself, his love would remain out of reach as long as they both drew breath.

"We're not going to make it", it wasn't a question that croaked through his chapped lips, merely a truth she had realised hours earlier.

"We tried", she replied, though it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. Trying wouldn't make this failure any easier, it wouldn't take Sansa any closer home. "They say it's just like falling asleep."

"It's a Stark's death", he was bitter but he was right. It was fitting for the snow Queen but not for them. "We should have seen one more battlefield wench. I would have liked the chance to fight a dragon."

"Like in the songs", she could afford to be sentimental now the end was so close.

Ser Jaime smiled, half mocking but wholly in agreement, "The immortal Dragonslayer", she saw him actually consider it, "Maybe Tyrion will have one written in our honour."

"As long as it's better than The Bear and The Maiden Fair."

He laughed at that, actually threw his head back and laughed at her grumble. It was incredible how warming the sound of it was, even with the snow swirling and falling again.

"I'll take Sansa", Brienne threw her arms at him as soon as the laughter gurgled and died, leaving him searching for breath once again. He shouldn't have even offered to carry her with the injuries he was still healing from.

"I can handle it", he snapped as if he couldn't accept the pity that came along with her action and Brienne took a step away to watch as he continued to struggle through the deep virgin snow drifts, his movements becoming weaker with every step. She knew it was now time to stop, the choice having been made for them days earlier when the never-ending blizzards blew them off their path.

"Ser Jaime?" she questioned across the emptiness, hoping he could now put aside any hatred of her he had left.

"Brienne", he was resigned enough to use her real name as he carefully lowered their silent charge to the ground. "Don't feel you have to stay to watch an old cripple die."

She doubted she would make it that much further without him, allowing herself to fall into the powder snow as the full realisation of her bubbling feelings for him finally hit her all at once. It was a love that she would never find the words to voice, much to late to try, so she settled onto another way to get the Lord Commander to join her on the ground.

"We started this together, we should end it the same way", the weakness in her voice physically hurt, there were no walls out here that she wanted to hide behind anymore. Brienne offered him her hand but he waved her assistance off, stumbling to the ground barely an arms length away.

She sent a silent prayer to the Maiden, the Warrior, the Mother, anyone who would take mercy on them and ease their passing. 

For a world that was so bright, blindingly white as the sun hit the the snow, it was a surprise at how dark it was when her eyes finally closed, Ser Jaime's fingers grazing against hers as his strength began to leave him. 

Together, she thought and then she didn't think anymore.

              *************

Brienne opened her frozen eyelids in surprise as she coughed back to life once again, watching as Robb Stark on horseback stared down at her, the gently falling snow melting in his hair. The gods had taken her and seen fit to condemn her to relive her worst fears. Her head swam as she tried to stand up, wondering why it hadn't been Renly that greeted her into hell. 

"They're alive! Get them inside!" Robb yelled and an army of men came running out of the formerly hidden stone structure behind him. Brienne blinked, allowing her vision to focus, the boy on the horse had clear Stark features but it wasn't the doomed young wolf. He was darker, an almost tortured look in his eyes as he glanced around waiting for something.

"The raven arrived so many days ago we were beginning to think you'd fallen to the White Walkers", he explained as a grimace like smile flittered across his face, taking him back to childhood for less than a second before the stone mask descended again. When he next spoke it was the through the voice reserved for the Lord of Winterfell.

"Lady Brienne I must apologise for whatever trauma you may have encountered because of my mother and I thank you for returning my sister. You are welcome to stay at Winterfell for as long as you see fit to, my home is your home. Hodor will see you to your rooms."

It was a lot of information for her frost addled brain to process, but as she was pulled to her feet by a giant of a man and dragged towards the walls of the castle she remembered one thing.

"Ser Jaime?" she asked the boy, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer.

"The Kingslayer still breathes."

The relief that flooded her body almost buckled her knees, the man beside her clutching at her arms to keep her from falling back into the snow.

"Though the Maester can't say how much longer he will remain that way. If you have any goodbyes it may be best to say them now before it's too late", the boy turned away again, world weary at such a young age and Brienne thought about the atrocities all the Stark children had seen and how damaged they all were now.

"Hodor?" she asked the servant, "Can you take me to the Maester?"

"Hodor", the kindly giant responded and lumbered down one of the many hallways, keeping tight ahold of her as the little lord had commanded.

 

"Ser, I'm sorry you'll have to wait", the Maester turned as Brienne burst into the room, some last reserves of strength propelling her forward those final few steps. As the stranger took in her eyes he apologised, "My Lady, as you are still standing you will have to wait."

She glanced over his shoulder to see Ser Jaime on the pallet, the colour drained  from his face, eyes tightly closed, his chest as still as the grave. 

Brienne was across the room in an instance, falling to her knees as if in prayer, hands going to the dead man's chest to let herself cry for once. She felt a rumble beneath her hand, it taking her longer than usual to realise that Ser Jaime was laughing at her. "Seven hells, I'm not dead yet wench. You can save your tears."

When later asked Brienne would say she didn't know what pushed her forward in that moment, but when the familiarity of his green eyes met hers and they were both still so alive it only took a heartbeat before she had her lips to his.

She was feverish and he was freezing, both burning each other as even in his weakened state Jaime was the one to push up and deepen the kiss, guiding her clumsy eagerness with more experienced lips. He wanted this too, she realised as a low groan rang out across the room and Brienne found she had no idea which one of them it had come from. 

The noise had brought the Maester running and he coughed and spluttered until they reluctantly pulled apart, Brienne's heart continuing to pound in her head long after Jaime had fallen back into the makeshift bed.

"If you kiss like that on your first try it would be a shame for you to die a maid", Jaime whispered so quietly that only she could hear his insinuation, his smile turning into a grimace as feeling started to return to his bones. The Maester poured milk of the poppy down his throat as Brienne finally allowed the youngest Stark boy to pile furs around her now shivering form. She had fallen into shock at the rapid change in temperature and perhaps due to her boldness, but try as they might not one of the men could pull her away from the bruising hold she had on Ser Jaime's hand over the furs.

                **********

The sun had risen and fallen three times before Sansa had enough strength to leave her bed, she was still burnt from overexposure to the cold and it was likely the Maester would have to take a finger but she was drawing breath easier now so her brothers had deemed her well enough to wander the castle.

She found there was only one thing she wanted to do so with her youngest brother at her elbow, no longer the baby faced child she'd left all those years ago, she was guided to Brienne's bedchamber to express her gratitude to one of the knights that saved her life. The tall woman may not have been a knight in name but she would always be a knight in Sansa's heart. One day soon that may matter.

The redhead knocked gently on the door, it was early but Brienne had always been up with the sun on their travels so it was likely Sansa wouldn't be disturbing her slumber. When there was no answer she knocked slightly harder, pushing the unlocked door open with her bandaged frostbitten hand.

She had to cover her mouth to prevent the shocked gasp that tried to escape as she stepped into the room, taking the sight in front of her. Ser Jaime could have been mistaken for a corpse under the pile of furs had it not been for the slight flush in his face, his contended look the nearest she had seen him to being happy. Brienne was stretched out beside him in restful sleep, the first night of the like in what Sansa had assumed must have been a long time. The blonde woman shifted in the warmth as Sansa watched, the Kingslayer's head falling to the taller woman's shoulder as if he was borrowing her strength to help him heal.

"He had to promise the Maester that they would marry as soon as he was strong enough to walk", Rickon told his sister, explaining the situation that had occurred during the time she had been bedridden.

Sansa hadn't cried for what seemed like months, years maybe but the tear that traced it's way down her face now wasn't only to do with what the three of them had just narrowly escaped. Her voice cracked as she let all her forgotten pain and fear out, trying to focus on the one happy thing in front of her, "It's been a long time coming."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going back to modern universe now. All apologies if this was worse than I thought, I blame the insomnia.
> 
> Feedback, good or bad, is always lovely.


End file.
